


Cut the Deck

by Yergink



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect, Fear, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-08-22 23:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yergink/pseuds/Yergink
Summary: The Kingdom of Darkness is in turmoil. The Spade King has seized control of the throne. Rouxls Kaard gets a notice about a new job.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be probably very self indulgent.  
> I like Rouxls Kaard a lot and want to explore his character so here we are!

Card Castle is a dull, empty place under the rule of the Spade King.  
  
The monotone hallways stretch silent and still, with tomb-like walls that press on either side. There are no windows, no natural light to let in after all, and the only gaps in the dark brick are the yawning doorways like the maws of beasts opened to swallow whoever may pass through. The air is stale, heavy, and the atmosphere is chilled.  
  
Rouxls does not think he will ever grow accustomed to this place.  
  
He stands in a room that he is supposed to call his own, but the items strewed about it do not belong to him. The bed is left unmade, a hat hanging from the bottom post. One wall has various pieces of paper tacked to it, with reminders and motivational messages written on them. Rouxls shifts his gaze and sees a stack of books and magazines in a corner of the room, one left open and facedown on the top of the pile, as if the owner had planned to get back to it later.  
  
If Rouxls didn’t know better, he’d think he was trespassing. That whoever this room belonged to would walk through the door any moment. But he did know better, and he thought of iron shackles and barred cages and faces screaming in despair deep below the castle’s floor.  
  
He shakes the images from his mind quickly. There is no use dwelling on the past. Rouxls Kaard is a man of the future! If this place is to be his home, then he shall make it so!  
  
He doesn’t get far in his endeavor to organize the room when he is interrupted by the ground shaking in hiccups. Heavy footsteps thump along outside, causing items to jump and tremble as they grow closer. And then, the Spade King is standing in the opened doorway with the majesty of an eagle, a toothy grin upon his face.  
  
Immediately, Rouxls drops everything he’s holding and bends into a bow.  
  
“You may rise, Kaard,” the king says and the mouth on his stomach titters incomprehensibly. Rouxls does as told.  
  
“Sire, what doth thou need from me at this time?”  
  
The king shakes his head and steps further into the room, knocking down and cracking a pile of CDs that Rouxls had found and placed by the door.  
  
“Aren’t I allowed to come and see how my new Duke of Puzzles is settling in?”  
  
“O-Of course!” Rouxls scrambles. “I simply-- as the onlyst king, I believeth you hath more importante matters to attend to, Sire?”  
  
“You’re an important matter!” The king exclaims, slinging a thick arm over Rouxls' shoulders and nearly knocking him over in the process. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I want to make sure you’re doing well. The stress of the job hasn’t gotten to you yet, has it?” The smile upon the king’s face reads sadistic amusement. His second mouth breathes hot against Rouxls’ side but he does not dare pull away.  
  
He smiles weakly. “It hath not upended me yet, olde friend.”  
  
Both mouths cackle hysterically and globs of saliva hit Rouxls’ face, and he resists the urge to wipe them away. The king gives his shoulder one strong squeeze before letting go. “I’m glad to hear that! It’s very nice to be working with such a trusted friend.”  
  
“Indeed,” Rouxls says stiffly.  
  
The king glances around, looking at all the stuff still littered about the room. Seems to realize he’s interrupted something. “I’ll leave you it then.”  
  
He’s almost out the door and Rouxls has leaned down to pick up the items when there’s a thud as the king’s large hand slams against the doorway.  
  
“I really am glad to have you here, Kaard,” and he says it in that low, rumbling tone that hides malice like a snake hides its fangs. “I do hope you don’t disappoint me.”  
  
With another fiendish laugh, the king leaves.

 

* * *

 

 Rouxls quickly finds many problems with being the Duke of Puzzles, but the main one is that he doesn’t actually know anything about puzzles.  
  
At first, he hadn’t even known what he was supposed to be _doing_. There were already puzzles set up within the castle, and even without knowing how they worked all he felt he could do was tidy them up every now and again.  
  
But then the king started asking when he was going to start setting up, and every time Rouxls had sputtered out some excuse about planning. And with every time, the frown on the king’s face deepened.  
  
“Remember what I said about not disappointing me, Kaard,” he’d said and Rouxls knew immediately it was a warning. He’d barely suppressed a shudder when the king’s second mouth gnashed its teeth together.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
His composure had only held until he’d reached the room-that-still-didn’t-feel-like-his. He clicked the door shut and, back to the wall, slid down and stared wide eyed into this place that did not welcome him  
  
Now, he stares at the elevator doors, his throat tight as they open to pull him in. And he enters willingly, riding down the castle’s gullet with barely gathered courage.  
  
There is silence for a long time, and when he stares forward for too long, the black walls start to swirl. Dizzy, he looks down to the book in his grasp and tries to keep his hands from shaking.  
  
Puzzlebuilding Masters Vol. 1. He’d stolen it from one of the Rudinns. A lifeline.  
  
The elevator slides to a smooth halt and there’s a chime as the doors open. Immediately, Rouxls feels his gut twist.  
  
He’d been avoiding the prison during his time in the castle so far, and he was unprepared for what greeted him. The air was choked with the smell of mold and mildew, nauseating in its intensity. There is little light and only a single lantern above the elevator doors casts a glow against the stone. Rouxls sits against the wall by the elevator and swallows his discomfort because he knows the king will not look for him here. He cracks open the book and begins reading with the despairing noises of those imprisoned carrying like ghosts’ wails throughout the dungeon.  
  
_Chapter 1: Knowing Your Audience_

_The first mistake made by novice designers is rushing in without first clarifying who the puzzle is being made for. One but first identify who the intended solver for the puzzle is and--_  
  
The sound of sobbing that trails river-like down the corridors. Rouxls grits his teeth and ignores it.

_-and understand that this is what will influence the final design. One must take into account the intelligence and physiology of the--_  
  
And then, something darts across his peripheries. Rouxls perks his head, gaze flicking across the empty expanse of prison, but he does not see anything. The clattering of chains echoes.  
  
He must have imagined it. Focus back to the book, Rouxls flips a page.  
  
Again, a shadow, and Rouxls looks again, faster, but does not catch it. He shuts the book and climbs to his feet.  
  
Had a prisoner escaped somehow? None of the guards would have any reason to skirt about this way. Rouxls glances back at the elevator. The only exit.  
  
Well, he certainly wasn’t going to risk his own safety trying to subdue an escapee.  
  
“I shalt be leaving, and couldeth not be less of a threat to thine escape plot” He tells the empty room,  voice shrill and tight in his throat.  
  
He reaches for the elevator button, and there is laughter somewhere in the dark of the prison but it’s… strange. Cheery. Against his better judgement Rouxls looks behind him and--  
  
And standing before him is the king.  
  
...Well, not quite, Rouxls realizes. First off, it’s much too small, but the shape is the same and the colors are the same and that wide grin is the same although it lacks the malice that characterizes the Spade King’s own, and very quickly Rouxls realizes who has stumbled upon him.  
  
“Prince Lancer?” He says, almost disbelieving. He had only heard of the Prince secondhand, and had yet to come across him in his time in Card Castle so far. The king spoke very little of his son, so much so that within his growing anxiety over his new position, Rouxls had quite forgotten he had one.  
  
Lancer puffs out his chest, that silly grin still on his face. “The one! The only!” He strikes a ridiculous looking pose.  
  
Rouxls is dumbfounded, unsure how to proceed. “What art thou doingst down here, young sire? Certainly these awfule dungeons art not a place for a childe.”  
  
Lancer stands back on his heels and crosses his arms over his chest. “My _dad_ said I could be down here if I wanted.”  
  
Rouxls tries to smile placatingly but his teeth grind together. Pesky little cockroach. It would be best not to antagonize the little brat, if only to keep peace with the king.  
  
Lancer uncrosses his arms. “Hey, I recognize you now!” He chirps. “You’re the new puzzle guy! How come _you’re_ down here?”  
  
“I-- well,” Rouxls tightens his hold around the book. “I am doingst important business. With all respects, young sire, thou wouldn’tst understand.”  
  
Lancer seems to light up upon hearing that. “Wow, that’s cool! Can I do important stuff too?”  
  
“No.”  
  
The prince shrinks back. “Ahm, I mean--” Rouxls starts again. That seemed to really upset him, and Rouxls doesn’t want to be responsible for making the king’s cherished son upset. “Thou may… help… by…” He glances around. “Thou must… c-count! Yes, counteth the prisoners, young sire, and report thine findings to me.”  
  
Dim witted insect that he is, the prince gives a thumbs up. “Got it! You won’t be disappointed, puzzle guy!”  
  
_Puzzle guy???_  
  
“Then I shalt leave thou to thine work.” Rouxls folds into the briefest bow he can manage before pressing the elevator button and stepping inside.  
  
“Bye!” Lancer shouts through the gap as the doors close.   
  
The lift jerks into motion, rising up back to the ground floor, and Rouxls puts a hand to his head, blowing out a sigh.  
  
This job was going to be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brought to you by the Making Comic Relief Characters Angsty Foundation


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rouxls gets some new responsibilities and has a talk with some old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving

Rouxls takes a moment to try to calm his shaking hands.  
  
It’s a futile effort. He’s trembling all over, probably noticeably, and nothing is this wretched castle is going to give him any sympathy for it.  
  
He’s standing in front of the door to the throne room, the towering arc of the doorframe leering down at him. A great black wall marred only by a tall white spade that watches like the king’s own eye.  
  
A breath.  
  
 _The Spade King has little patience.  
  
_ A breath.  
  
 _Go on, what be you? A man or a worm?_  
  
He fixes his cuffs. Brushes the hair from his eyes.  
  
With a plaster smile on his face, Rouxls pushes the door open. The air that greets him feels cold and lonely, as if it knows it is missing the parts that make it whole. Even without its three companions, the Spade King’s throne is massive, centered within the room. It demands both attention and fear, the same way its current occupant does. Upon seeing Rouxls enter, the king raises his arms wide in greeting.  
  
“I was starting to think you weren’t showing up!” The king exclaims, and the mouth on his stomach chatters wildly.  
  
Rouxls’ smile is tight. “I wouldst not dare, Sire.”  
  
One of the king’s large hands curls in a gesture to come forward. Rouxls suddenly starts feeling warm within the chilly air of the throne room.    
  
Cautiously, Rouxls approaches the king. He feels that heavy gaze on him, digging into him like the tip of a spade, and he pointedly avoids eye contact. He may still be shaking, but he isn’t sure.  
  
He’s almost at the king’s feet when he stops. Awkwardly, Rouxls lowers into a kneel, bowing his head low enough that his hair drops like a wall around his face.  
  
“Rise.”   
  
And ever the loyal dog, he does.  
  
When Rouxls looks at the king’s face, the man seems… off, somehow. He hadn’t noticed when he stood at the door, too busy calming his own nerves, but there was a certain tension in the king’s features. He was gripping the armrests of the throne tightly, veins rising along his clenched hands. He still seemed happy to see Rouxls, but the grin looked as though it took too much effort. Very quickly, as to not draw attention, Rouxls glanced to the king’s stomach.  
  
The mouth there was set in a deep downturn.  
  
“Kaard, my friend, tell me,” the king starts and Rouxls forces himself to meet the king’s face. “Has your work been going well?"  
  
“Yes, mine King. Wonderfully, if I mayst sayeth so myself.”   
  
Well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration considering all he’s done was tape word searches around the walls on the ground floor but the king doesn’t need to know that. He looks rather pleased at the news.  
  
“And your time at the castle? Have you been comfortable?”  
  
Rouxls thinks of the room-that-only-sort-of-feels-like-his and answers, “Most certainstly!”  
  
The king slides back in the throne, stretching out his hands against the armrests. “...Good.” And then, more quietly, as if Rouxls was not meant to hear, “At least someone’s enjoying it.”  
  
Oh, a predicament. But Rouxls does not stop to think before he speaks and blurts out, “Art thou not enjoying thou newfoundst power?”  
  
The king frowns, and the mouth cut into his stomach pulls back in a grimace. “With power comes responsibility, my friend. I am… not yet accustomed to every new duty.”  
  
“Thou hast my utmost respect, of course, sire, but…” Rouxls is acutely aware of his own pulse. He knows he should stop, speaking to the king in and of itself is like entering the radius of a wasp’s nest, but for some reason he can’t seem to get himself to shut up. “Perhapseth, the kingdom would functione more smoothly, if manyeth royal positionse werest not… understaffed?”  
  
...And, he’s just picked up a stick and poked the goddamn wasp’s nest.  
  
“Sorry!” Rouxls practically squeaks when the king does not answer. “I understandeth thou hath been fillingst these positions thouself, I simply thoughtst--”  
  
The king starts laughing. It’s a full body action, he cackles and slams his fists into the armrests on the throne and tilts his head back as the booming noises of it fill the room. Rouxls feels lightheaded, sweaty under his collar. He swallows and hopes he hasn’t signed his own death warrant.  
  
“I knew! I knew it was a good idea to bring you on, Kaard! You clever bastard!”  
  
It takes a minute, but the Spade King calms. For the most part, at least. The second mouth is still snickering.  
  
“S-Sire?” Rouxls asks, weakly.  
  
“You will take on prison control then? And guard management? We’re also lacking in the cooking department. How good are you at holding coats and hats?”  
  
What.  
  
“What?”  
  
The king grins, sharp edged, like he’s unbelievable proud of his idea. “You take over some work for me. I’m sure you’re up for the challenge.”  
  
“Well, I,” Rouxls sputters. “I don’t--”  
  
“Kaard,” and it’s a warning. Rouxls’ mouth snaps shut. “I told you to not disappoint me.”  
  
The king looks him over for a moment, pondering. Comes to some conclusion and says, “It’ll just be prison control for now. See to it as soon as possible.”  
  
And somehow, under the king’s leaden gaze, Rouxls pulls together a smile. “Of course, Sire.”  
  
One awkward bow later, and Rouxls has turned to leave the throne room. His hand is ready to open the door when the king calls out from behind him.  
  
“One more thing, Kaard. My son. Make sure he stays in line.”  
  
Rouxls’ hands curl into fists. “Thine words art my orderse, Sire.”

 

* * *

 

Rouxls finishes one last curved sweep before placing down his pen and admiring his work. The little plate lies on the desk, proudly displaying:  
  
 _“Rouxls Kaard - Duke of Puzzles, etc.”  
  
_ There’s a warmth in his chest as he fixes the plaque to the side of the door. The door-that-might-as-well-be-his. It feels official. He’s here, and there’s no turning back. Rouxls doesn’t know whether that thought makes him happy or anxious.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Then, something small and round is shooting down the hallway, pushing past the Hathy guards that were chattering as they walked together on patrol. One of them nearly falls and turns to make an angered sound, but the shape just keeps moving.  
  
Rouxls doesn’t have enough time to react before the thing collides violently with him, sending him stumbling off balance with a rather undignified cry.  
  
“Puzzle guy!”   
  
Ah, the tumbling ball of irritation _._  
  
“Prince Lancer.” Rouxls notes, bracing against the wall as he rights himself.  
  
“Wherefore must thou continue to call me ‘puzzle guy’? Mine name is printed uponeth the door,” and Rouxls points to the nameplate. Takes in the flowing curly letters of his own penmanship. Lancer follows his hand, stares at the plate for a moment, then says, “That’s too hard. Puzzle guy is easier.”  
  
Before Rouxls can make a retort, the prince continues. “So puzzle guy, I counted all the prisoners just like you said!”  
  
“It’s.” Rouxls sneers. “Rouxls Kaard.”  
  
“Bless you,” Lancer says. “Don’t you wanna know?”  
  
“Knoweth, what?”  
  
“How many prisoners there are!”   
  
“Perhapseth not!” Rouxls scoffs, crossing his arms. “If thou can not even geteth my name correcte.” When he looks back at Lancer, it doesn’t even seem as though the prince was paying any attention. Instead, he’s looking at his hands, seeming to count on his fingers.   
  
“Three hundred and fifty-seven!” Lancer announces proudly.  
  
Rouxls drags a hand down his face in exasperation and sighs. Again, Lancer doesn’t seem to take notice.  
  
“...Tis appreciated,” he says, and awkwardly pats Lancer on the head. The prince beams. Uncomfortable, Rouxls clears his throat. “Now, I musteth attend to other duties, so…” He gives a quick, sort of wave before stepping past Lancer. He doesn’t look back as he heads down the hall but Lancer still shouts out behind him.  
  
“Bye puzzle guy!”  
  
Internally, Rouxls groans.

 

* * *

 

 The elevator to the prison chimes and Rouxls steps out. This time, he does not sneak about, does not exit hunched over in secrecy. He puffs his chest out, hands clasped elegantly behind his back, and makes sure to stand at his full height. The mask of responsibility slips on, a bit uncomfortably.  
  
He ignores the sounds of the prisoners as he steps in. “Guards! Cometh to attention!” He shouts.  
  
There are a few surprised yelps, what sounds like something hitting the floor, and then three Rudinn guards rush to stand at attention. One of them is holding their spear upside down. Rouxls looks them over.  
  
“Listeneth up thou brainless slugs! His Majesty hath placeth me in charge of the dungeone!” He glares at the Rudinn with the upside down spear, who seems to realize their error and hurries to fix it. “And there beeth much work to be done.”  
  
And there was. Lights to be added, doors to be fixed, rust to be scraped off, locks to be oiled, the list of repairs needed in the prison seem to go on. While the four kings ruled in harmony, the prison had hardly been used and was barely operational.  
  
He is directing a Rudinn in moving the wheeled cages to a different room when a voice whispers out from one of the cages, carries across the mildewy air, and stops him in his tracks.  
  
“...Rouxls Kaard? Is that you?”  
  
And he looks, and feels a shiver trace down his spine, a churn in his gut.  
  
“Ah, it is… So what they said was true, then? You work under the King of Spades now.”  
  
Inside one of the filthy moveable cages sit the three former kings. They are bound together with chains, resting along the grimy floor, crowded together such that one one is able to press against the bars at a time. It is almost sickening to see them this way. As mere shadows, with their former glory stripped down to little more than the mold that clogs the prison air.  
  
The one that had spoke, the King of Hearts, has one hand clenched at the bars.  
  
“Kaard, how could you betray your friends this way?”  
  
Paled, off guard, Rouxls snaps, “Tis notst betrayal.” There is no bite behind the words and the imprisoned king does not look convinced.  
  
“Always the type to follow the carrot, eh?” The King of Diamonds speaks from within the cage. “Even so long ago, you always begged at the feet of whoever had the most to offer you.”  
  
“Oh you hush,” the King of Hearts turns to look at his companion. “He is not the one who has locked us away.”  
  
The King of Diamonds huffs and awkwardly attempts to cross his arms. A difficult action while chained to two other people and inside of a cramped cage. “He’s a double-crossing bastard.”  
  
The words light a fume of anger. What right do they have to criticize him? At least he’s not locked in a cage in a disgusting dungeon, left to rot for the rest of his life. “Thou slanderst me, villain! It wouldst been most foolish to disregardeth the king’s offer. I hath acquired a most Highe Ranking Position and all thou hath acquired is a life sentence!”  
  
“He’s afraid for his life,” the third king speaks, one head craning to look out at Rouxls. The King of Clubs seems almost defeated, his other heads laying limp and unresponsive. A sorry sight, indeed. “Rouxls, please,” The King of Clubs continues. “Do a favor for a friend? Make sure Clover gets something nice for her birthday.”  
  
Briefly, Rouxls wonders if speaking to the prisoners would be considered treason. But the desperate hope on the king’s face forces the words from his mouth.  
  
“...Sure.”  
  
“Well if we’re asking him for favors,” The King of Diamonds says, apparently having forgotten about his previous insulting comments, “Then make sure my treasures are alright, as well.”  
  
At this, Rouxls lip curls, and he does not reply. Despite this, the king looks satisfied. Finally, the King of Hearts, once more grasping at the bars of the cage, speaks his own request.  
  
“Kaard,” the king says his name all soft and weary, so very unlike the Spade King’s harsh, demanding tone. “Keep an eye on the young prince, will you? If you do nothing else, please. Keep Lancer safe.”  
  
It’s a puzzling mirror of the request the Spade King gave him. But Rouxls isn’t good at puzzles, so he just nods vaguely and plans on forgetting about it as soon as possible. After all, he had more important things to attend to than the royal brat.  
  
The King of Hearts seems relieved at Rouxls apparent compliance, and his entire body seems to relax.  
  
“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 There is a spider in the corner of his room.  
  
Rouxls notices it after returning from the prison. He’s sitting on the-bed-that-feels-more-like-his when he spots it in the corner, hanging from the ceiling on a thin thread that glints in the dull yellow light.  
  
He watches as it climbs down its thread, spindly legs purposeful in their movement. A curious little thing, weaving its web against the dark brick walls.  
  
When he finally manages to sleep, Rouxls wonders if it’s watching him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finger guns* i haven't reread this yet so as always i'll edit later sorry


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rouxls bonds with the spades.

“And ast thou canst see here, all locke mechanisms hath been replaced,” Rouxls gestures to one of the cells, exhibiting the door. “The molde hath also beenst cleaned from the walls.”  
  
The Spade King nods. The newly renovated dungeon had been completed and Rouxls was eager to show off the work he’d had done. He’d surprisingly taken up the role with ease, and-- although he wouldn’t dare mention it to the king-- he felt this job suited him more than anything puzzle related. Organization, management, it was something he could _do.  
  
_ The tour had started kind of slow, but the king had seemed impressed by the all the improvements at least.  
  
“You’re doing excellent work,” The king remarks as Rouxls moves to continue down the hallway.  
  
Rouxls beams. “Thank you, Sire.” The praise was a beacon of light, even if its source was a terrifying darkness. The last week had been a panic of scheduling repairs, overseeing costs, managing the project, and so on. Finally finishing was a breath of fresh air, and Rouxls was basking in it.   
  
They pass a cell where a prisoner is curled against the wall, sobbing. Rouxls hardly takes notice.    
  
“There is one roome left and thine tour shalt end,” Rouxls says, still upbeat. The king makes some noncommittal sound from behind him. Then, the heavy footsteps pick up pace a bit and in a moment the king is beside Rouxls rather than behind him.  
  
Immediately, Rouxls slows. “Sire?” He tries to ask, but he doesn’t get far before a large arm is slung over his shoulders heavy as a lead chain. A spike of fear jolts through him and on instinct he tries to get out of the hold, but the king is too strong. He’s pulled against the Spade King’s side, and his throat constricts. But the king is smiling. This is fine, this is fine, sure it’s weird and uncomfortable but the hold isn’t _strangling.  
  
_ The king doesn’t seem to realize Rouxls’ panic, continuing to walk like everything is normal. It __is normal, right? Just a motion between friends, he must just not realize his own strength, right? Above Rouxls’ thoughts, the king seems to be saying something that Rouxls doesn’t quite hear.  
  
“Pardon?” He says weakly.  
  
The king laughs, jostling Rouxls against his side. “I said the place looks fantastic! You’d forget it was a prison if it weren’t for the cages.”  
  
The lack of space between them makes him feel claustrophobic, to say the least, but Rouxls doesn’t dare complain. He does wince though, when the king’s second mouth pants against his side, and he can feel a damp spot growing from the spittle. Gross.  
  
“And where is the last room?” The king asks as they reach the elevator.  
  
Rouxls experimentally tries to pull away, to take the lead again. A struggle, like he’s a fly caught in a spider’s web. But the sticky threads loosen. He slips from the king’s hold, taking a few steps forward, heels clattering against the stone floor before he regains his balance.  
  
Relief sweeps through him. He doesn’t know what he would have done if the former kings in the other room would have seen him like that. With the Spade King’s arm over his shoulder, pressed all close like they were… something. If they didn’t already think he was a lapdog, they would have then. Thank god he managed to get out of it.  
  
He does not turn back to look at the king, instead straightening and continuing forward. “The finalst roome is just pasteth here.” There is a sweep of a cape and he hears the large man trudge along behind him. It’s accompanied by a low grumble, but Rouxls decides not to worry about it.  
  
Immediately upon Rouxls entering the room, the King of Hearts perks up from behind the iron bars, but he wilts back when he sees the imposing form in accompaniment. Rouxls feels guilt stew in his stomach, but he does not make eye contact with the imprisoned rulers.  
  
He clears his throat. “The cages herest were shiftedeth to create—“  
  
“You did good, Kaard.” The king puts up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m going to cut this little tour off here. I have important matters to attend to.”  
  
Rouxls frowns. “Sire, ‘tis the last room.”  
  
“I realize.”  
  
Exasperated, Rouxls insists, “Just let me finish—“  
  
“Enough.” And the words are punctuated by a snarl. Teeth bare along the king’s stomach and Rouxls snaps his mouth shut immediately. The king stares at him for a moment before pushing out a heavy exhale through his nose. His cape drags as he stalks from the room.   
  
The chill of the prison shakes through Rouxls like a ghost passing through him.  
  
Chains clink about and from behind him, the King of Hearts speaks.  
  
“That man,” he starts, “is not your friend. He has changed. None of us know why.”  
  
Rouxls’ chest feels tight. He does not reply.  
  


* * *

  
Later, Rouxls is sitting at his desk trying to hand draw a maze when he is startled by a resounding crash from outside his door. The sound is like a trash can going through a grinder, and when he jolts back, his pen slices a black line across the page, right through all the progress he’d made. He scowls, tossing the pen aside and crumpling the page up, tossing it onto the growing pile of failed attempts.  
  
He steps angrily into the hallway, gaze sweeping to the other wall where a tangle of grey and blue seems to have careened down the corridor and lodged partway into the stone. And as his eyes pick apart the mess his blood runs cold because _oh, shit, that’s_ —  
  
“Prince Lancer!”  
  
Oh, what was that child thinking? Rouxls rushes forward to help but before he can do anything Lancer puts up a hand and waves.  
  
“I’m alright!” The child says, carefully removing himself from the metal heap, seemingly unhurt. “Oh, hey puzzle guy!”  
  
Rouxls frowns. “Are you sure you’re—“ he stops. Clears his throat. “Art thou sure thou’re alright?”  
  
Lancer lifts his arms in the air and wiggles them around a bit. “I think so?” Then he turns and begins tugging at the thing that crashed into the wall.  
  
“Can you help me get the wall off my bike?”  
  
Rouxls blanches. “What?”  
  
“My bike!” Lancer points to the object. “Dad got it for me. I don’t think he’d like if it got stuck in the wall the first time I used it.”  
  
...Well, it sort of looks like a bike, Rouxls supposes. If he tilts his head and squints a bit. But that’s probably just because the front was embedded in the wall. Lancer is struggling to get it upright, his little feet sliding along the ground as he struggles to pull it.  
  
God dammit.  
  
“Step back, young sire.” He places a hand gently on Lancer’s shoulder and motions the boy behind him. He gets a grip on the seat and pulls as hard as he can. The wall had a solid grip and doesn’t budge, and Lancer starts cheering him on from out of sight.  
  
“You can do it, puzzle guy!”  
  
Rouxls takes a breath and swallows his retort about getting his name right and tugs one more time. It takes a few tries, but eventually the bike pops free and when Rouxls sets it on the ground Lancer applauds.  
  
It’s a dinky looking thing, Lancer’s bike, but surprisingly the front didn’t get crushed like a tin can against the stone so it must have been sturdier than it looked. Lancer immediately hops right back on it.  
  
“Thanks!”  
  
Rouxls expects to watch Lancer pedal off and that be the end of it. He’s already thinking about other things, most importantly the damaged wall and what he’s going to do about it, but that doesn’t quite happen as expected. Lancer lifts his feet off the ground, pedals maybe three meters, and then the bike wobbles, tips, and falls, sending the prince once more to the ground with a yelp.  
  
“I’m good!” Lancer is quick to reassure as he manages to right himself by holding the handlebars and lifting the bike back into a standing position. Something dawns on Rouxls as he watches.  
  
“Lancer, doth thou knoweth how to ride such a vehicle?”  
  
“Uh, yeah! Yeah for sure.” He settles back onto the seat, but keeps both feet planted on the ground. “You turn the pedals and it goes! It’s really cool.”  
  
Rouxls crosses his arms, not believing it for a second. “While yes, thou art correct, it doth not seemeth to me as though thou knoweth how to execute these bike ridingst procedures.”  
  
Lancer blows a raspberry. “Yeah I do. Just watch.” The prince puts his feet on the pedals and pushes. For a moment, he seems to be doing fine, his course straight, but then the bike shakes, the handlebars jerk to the right, and Lancer tumbles right back down again.  
  
“I see,” Rouxls quips.  
  
Lancer tries to get up again but trips over the bike and nearly falls again. Hopping on one foot, he is able to get off and he lays the handlebars against the ground before plopping down beside the bike. His expression seems uncharacteristically upset, frown set so heavy it looks like it might fall off his face.  
  
“I was _gonna_ learn, but Dad said that kings don’t use training wheels. So he threw them away.” Lancer draws his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them, staring at his bike. “I thought I’d be able to do it without them.”  
  
Rouxls bites his lip, alarm bells sounding in his head. This isn’t his business. He’s not a babysitter or a teacher, he’s supposed to be a _Duke_ for god’s sake! He’s ready to just tell Lancer to get over it and get back to his work. The words are already formatted in his head.  
  
But… The boy seems so downtrodden. And there’s no chance his _father_ is going to do anything about it. So Rouxls holds his tongue, and like so many other things, the responsibility seems to fall on his incredibly capable shoulders.  
  
“Thou hath twisted my arm, then!” He declares. Lancer looks up, confused. “No I haven’t,” he says defensively.  
  
Rouxls sighs. “‘Tis an expression.” He pats Lancer on the head then stands to his full height, sending a smile to the prince.  
  
“Prince Lancer!” He declares. “I shalt teach thou to rideth a bike!”  
  


* * *

  
The amount of time it takes Rouxls to regret his words is directly proportional to the amount of time Lancer is able to stay on his bike each time he tries to ride it.  
  
He’d expected that doing this would take about two hours, _maybe_ two and a half. He’d help Lancer and be the great hero that taught the prince to ride a bike. The king might even praise him for it!  
  
Lancer lands with an _oof_ on the floor of the castle foyer for what might have been the fiftieth time in the past twenty minutes. Rouxls sighs and massages his temples with one hand as the prince gets back to his feet. Teacher Lancer was more difficult than creating a decent puzzle. It was almost like the prince was going out of his way to not listen to instructions. He would constantly look to the side instead of ahead, he would barely sit still in the seat, hell, half the time he wasn’t even pedalling in the right direction!  
  
“I almost had it that time,” Lancer huffs, metal scraping against the floor as he picks the bike up.  
  
“Thou wert close,” Rouxls lies. “But, perhapseth that is enough for today?”

  
Lancer’s expression twists, dejected. He looks from Rouxls’ face to the bike then back again. His lip wobbles, brow upturned, and Rouxls knows a weaker man would have succumb to such a look.  
  
“I haveth work I must attendeth to, young sire.”   
  
Lancer is frowning, tongue poking out of his mouth. “Yeah, I know, Dad.”  
  
It slips out of the child’s mouth without thought, without fanfare, and instantly Rouxls stiffens. It takes just a moment for Lancer to realize his mistake. “Er, I mean— Rouxls.”  
  
The feeling he gets upon hearing Lancer say that is similar to the feel of a centipede scuttling over his neck. Rouxls suppresses the urge to turn around and forces a smile, something he’s gotten quite good at.  
  
“‘Tis quite alright,” he reassures.   
  


* * *

  
He starts seeing Lancer around the castle more often. Not just for bike riding lessons (which the young prince continues to seek) but for everyday matters as well. Lancer will wave to him in the castle hallways in between meetings with the king or checks on the dungeon. He’ll ask Rouxls questions about his work or about puzzles or bugs or the “fancy writing” Rouxls enjoys.  
  
  
Placating Lancer becomes a whole new chore, and Rouxls isn’t sure if he’s entirely alright with that yet.  
  
He’s walking by the kitchens when without warning an unpleasant scraping sound tears from the door, followed by a dull thunk. Rouxls pauses. He __could just pretend he didn’t hear anything, right? It’s not his business. But the next sound out of the kitchen is Lancer’s voice, saying something that sounded far too mature for him.  
  
So, Rouxls hurries in.   
  
Lancer is standing atop a chair that he’d seemingly taken from the grand dining table in the adjacent room. He’s on tiptoe, reaching into a top cupboard, struggling to reach in. The setup looks very unsafe.   
  
“Lancer!” Rouxls exclaims, startling the boy. “What art thou doingst?”  
  
“Oh, uh, hi, Rouxls,” Lancer grows sheepish, retracting his arm from the cupboard and letting the door close with a thunk. He links his hands nervously behind his back. “I was just looking for something to eat.”  
  
“I believed thou hadst dinner with thine father already?”  
  
“He was busy.” Lancer twists the fabric of his clothing between his fingers. “So I thought I’d find something on my own.”  
  
Rouxls frowns at him. “You doth not needst to do that. Wherefore did thou not asketh someone to help thee?”   
  
Lancer shrugs absently. “I dunno.” He clambers down the chair and takes hold of the back, beginning to drag it back to its proper location. Rouxls stops him. “What art thou doing?”  
  
Lancer looks up at him. “Taking the chair back and goin’ to bed.”  
  
“Withoutst eating anything?”  
  
Once more, the prince shrugs. It’s such a sullen motion, heavy with a resignation that seems too old for such a young child. Like going to bed without dinner is normal.  
  
Rouxls doesn’t think that’s right.  
  
“...I have an idea.” He holds out a hand. With a flash of white light, a small bag appears within it, and he tears it open with one swift motion. He holds it out to Lancer who stares, hopeful but restrained. Rouxls holds it out farther, inciting Lancer to reach for it. It’s a bag of gummy worms.   
  
“Oh.” Lancer pulls back. “Dad says ‘m not allowed to have candy.”   
  
Rouxls pulls a gummy out of the bag and pops it into his own mouth. “Doth not tell him then.”   
  
Lancer still seems unsure, but he hesitantly reaches into the bag and pulls out a blue-pink worm. He cups it in his hands for a moment, looking up at Rouxls worriedly. Rouxls smiles at him, trying to ease his concern. Lancer stares at it for a moment longer before gently picking it up by one end and putting it in his mouth. He chews, slow and measured, which seems strange for him. Rouxls can barely tell he’s eating it. But Lancer’s face perks in delight and after, he takes another, and another, and eventually Rouxls hands him the whole bag.  
  
Sure, originally he’d bought them for himself, but Lancer is devouring them with such vigor and Rouxls knows the little prince is enjoying them more than he would. Watching Lancer, Rouxls knows he should probably be irritated, but somehow, he isn’t.  
  
Lancer cleans out the bag and thanks him and Rouxls doesn’t feel like complaining a single time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this good? Who knows, i'm tired

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://yergink.tumblr.com/) if anyone's interested


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